


but will you recognize my face?

by drashian



Series: the key to every opening [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming of Age, Developing Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Trans Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drashian/pseuds/drashian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the little things. The feeling inside when they call you son, when they call you man, when you realize that the closest thing you have to a father is just as fucked up as you are.</p><p>(A set of Dean and Bobby-centric scenes and vignettes, set during season 5 and before.)</p><p>(please check detailed warnings in notes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	but will you recognize my face?

**Author's Note:**

> _but will you recognize my face_   
>  _when god's awful grace_   
>  _strips me of my jacket and my vest_   
>  _and reveals all the treasure in my chest?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, I tagged Bobby and Dean as Father-Son Relationship. And yes, this is trans Dean AND trans Bobby.
> 
> warnings for: some misgendering/misnaming, short instances of transphobia, use of ableist c-slur, reference to injection, reference to gunshot wounds and some description of sewing one up, lots of alcohol.
> 
> (title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMVN5rPLCoE).)

"So, I've been checking out some weather systems and it looks like there's some serious omens going on in Wi—"

"No job just yet," Dean said, lifting his hand without taking an eye off the road. "Gotta stop by Bobby's."

"Why do we..." Sam sighed. "Oh. Right."

Dean scoffed. "Don't give me that. Once every, what, six months? It can wait."

"It's the end of the world, Dean. I think it's some extenuating circumstances."

Dean clutched the wheel, waiting for half a minute. "If we're really gonna go down, I'd rather go down feeling like myself."

Sam fell silent, watching tree trunks flash by, white in the headlights.

\- - -

"But Dad said—"

"Do you think I care what your Dad says? He ain't the only person who cares about you and he sure as hell doesn't own you."

Deanna sniffled and pulled her (her?) knees to her chest. "B-but it's not like... y'know. It's not normal."

Bobby sighed. "Maybe not, but since when has 'normal' been the family motto? Your dad's being an idiot."

"Is it even possible? A-are there, y'know, people like that?"

"Course there are." Bobby screwed up his face. "Your dad never explained why crazy Uncle Bobby has man tits?"

Deanna's eyes went wide, examining Bobby. "You too?"

"You're a lucky kid, I guess. I'll knock some sense into John."

He stood to go downstairs. Everything about him, everything that Deanna had been raised with, seemed so perfectly masculine. It was everything that Deanna wanted for herself. Himself?

"Do you think Dean is a good name?"

Bobby stopped in the doorway. "As good a name as any."

\- - -

"Alright, Cas, I'll bite," Dean said, exhaling loudly. "Why'd you bring me back like this?"

"Like what?"

"Come on, like this. In this body. You brought me out of Hell, made me a new body from scratch, but couldn't think to get rid of my tits while you were at it?"

Castiel's brows furrowed slightly. "I don't understand."

Dean stood up, throwing his arms up as he started to pace the room. "Don't they have angel sensitivity training? You've obviously seen all the parts of me."

"If you're referring to your biological sex—"

"What else would I be referring to?"

"—then I was not aware it was an issue." Castiel still frowned though, but not at Dean.

"Oh, right. Not an issue. I'm assuming you got the memo up in Heaven that generally men get born with dicks and women don't?"

"We 'got the memo'. I'm also aware of the vast array of sexes and genders that humans exhibit." Castiel shifted his weight. "I'm aware of what your body is."

"Then why couldn't you have fixed it?" Dean turned and stopped pacing, his eyes wild. "It would have been pretty easy for you, right?"

"I... I didn't know it was something you wanted." Castiel took a few steps closer to Dean.

Dean looked at his feet. "I don't get it."

"It's not the same for us. I forget the concern that humans have for the bodies they inhabit."

Smiling thinly, Dean met Castiel's eyes. "Explains why you're never too concerned for how many times I get stabbed doing your dirty work."

"I can always heal you," Castiel said. "I don't... I think the consequences of remaking your body would be undesirable."

"Undesirable like...?"

"My power is limited. I... I doubt I could control the side effects."

Dean grimaced at Castiel's tone. "I don't want to end up a smear of guts and blood on the carpet."

"Then I don't recommend that I attempt to reform your body."

Unclenching the fists he had forgot he was holding, Dean sighed. "If I die again, promise you'll bring me back different."

Castiel smiled in his slight way. "I will try my best."

Dean snorted. "No reassurance that I'm not dying again?"

"I'm afraid I cannot make such a promise," Castiel said, lowering his eyes.

\- - -

"I'm not gonna leave you hanging, look, just let me—" she said, pulling his shirt off before he had a moment to stop her.

He closed his eyes. "Look, I..."

"No, I get it," she said, quietly, standing up. He heard her pick up her clothes, slipping them back on.

"It's not like that."

"Not like what? You wanna get your freak on, tricking girls into your fucking lesbian fantasy?" Her bare footsteps sounded across the floor, pausing, slipping back into sandals.

"I'm not a—"

"Whatever. Have a nice night."

The door.

Dean didn't open his eyes until the car engine faded away.

\- - -

"Jesus, Cas, just fucking hurry up already," Dean said, breathless, trying to pull five hundred layers off of Castiel's slight frame. It didn't help that Castiel could hardly pull away for more than a moment and the two were almost permanently joined at the lips.

"You'd think you'd never kissed someone before," Dean quipped, finishing unbuttoning the top and throwing it off of Castiel's shoulders.

"Well..." Castiel said, shrugging a bit, and kept on kissing Dean's jaw, tasting the sweat and thin layer of blood and grime. Dean pulled the cuffs of Castiel's shirt off of his wrists roughly, possibly popping one of the buttons. He pulled the angel closer, sitting when he hit the edge of the bed and pulling Castiel on top of him. Castiel's hands ran down, over Dean's chest, slipped under the hem of his shirt. Dean grabbed his wrists gently.

"Let's just..." he said, frowning, "not go there."

Castiel nodded and left Dean's clothes alone, pushing him down to the bed.

\- - -

"No need to thank me."

"But you—"

"Look, I'm of the belief this is just a part of basic human rights."

"Bobby..."

"You'll pay me back one day. Now then, you ever use a syringe before?"

"No."

"I'll show you."

"Where did you get this anyway?"

"You don't want to know."

\- - -

The beer was wet, slick, almost slipped out of Dean's fingers and onto Bobby's floor but he caught himself before it fell. "Thanks," he said as Bobby sat on the couch next to him.

"Come on. Are we really watching this?" Sam said, putting his feet up on the table.

"Feet off." Sam rolled his eyes and obeyed. "And it's my house, my TV."

The green of the field looked blue-gray on the static-filled screen.

Dean wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "It's a fucking sauna in your house. Have you ever heard of air conditioning?"

"I'm just fine," Bobby said. A moment later he grunted and took off his vest, throwing it across the room.

"Gross, Bobby. No one wants to see that." Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're just jealous," he said, stretching his arms out.

Dean rolled his eyes while Sam laughed. He'd never admit his sore spot for Bobby's refusal to bind.

"It's just not natural. Man with a full beard and a goddamn D cup."

Bobby turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "That's not even true." He turned back to the TV, which was no longer emitting words, just garbled static. "They're Bs."

Dean threw the pillow next to him at Bobby, kicking uselessly toward him. "Gross! No one needed that!"

Sam took a long drink, smiling.

\- - -

Sam yanked Dean's shirt off before he had a second to protest, keeping his hands heavy on his brother's shoulders so he couldn't stand. The bandages around his chest were slick and stained a dark red. Sam started to unwind them as Dean winced, half out of pain and half out of embarrassment.

"I thought the point of me buying you that binder was that you wouldn't have to use these any more," Sam said, throwing the bloody bandages to the motel floor. He gestured for Dean to raise his arms, which he did, with some difficulty. Sam pulled the binder off in one long motion, throwing it, too, to the floor. He would have to wash and patch it later.

"It doesn't do enough, okay?" Dean said through gritted teeth. He looked to the ceiling and reached for his flask as Sam started to wipe blood away from the hole in his shoulder.

Sam snatched the flask out of Dean's hands and poured a shot over the bullet wound. Dean grunted, grabbing the flask back and taking a long swig.

"Look, I see you every day. I don't think there's an issue of you passing any longer," Sam said as he started to remove the bullet.

"It's not that," Dean said, his jaw clenching and his voice strained. "I just. Want to make sure."

"I'm not saying you can't do that, but we both know that this is dangerous. I don't want you cracking a rib on the job one day."

"I'll be fine."

The bullet bounced and clanged into an ashtray and Sam picked up his needle. "I'm just looking out for you."

"I think you've got that covered," Dean said, taking another drink and pouring a bit over the wound as Sam stitched it closed.

\- - -

Crowley appeared, glass and bottle in hand, and it didn't surprise Bobby. It hadn’t surprised him for a while.

"Here for a nice chat?" Bobby said, abandoning his attempt at alphabetizing his shelf and taking the bottle from Crowley's hands.

"And here I was thinking this is such romantic lighting." Crowley let Bobby take it with only a slight glare. He sipped from the glass he must have poured when Bobby wasn't looking.

"King of the Crossroads has low standards."

"It's not like you're the dinner and a movie type."

Bobby sat down. "What are you here for, then?"

Crowley shrugged, looking around. "Spring cleaning?"

"Bite me."

He wandered into the kitchen for a minute, leaving Bobby to nurse his drink alone.

Crowley stuck his head back in the doorway. "Why didn't you ask for anything on your contract?"

"You still gave me a hefty bonus without me asking."

"One would think that a man of your," Crowley took a sip, "situation would have requested a few extra clauses on his contract."

Bobby crossed his arms. "Wasn't trying to push my luck."

"I would have had to honor it. That's the whole point." Crowley leaned against the door frame.

"Is this a subtle way of saying you're not happy with this?" Bobby gestured vaguely at himself, taking a long shot from the bottle.

Crowley smirked. "Isn't the whole point that you aren't?"

Bobby snorted. "You never complained."

"I can’t say I'm displeased," Crowley said, smiling.

"Then stop pressing the issue. It's making me want you to leave."

"Oh, I wasn't even done with you yet."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Let's skip this heart-to-heart crap and get to the point."

"If you insist," Crowley said, slipping his jacket off his shoulders.

\- - -

"How do you get so much more tail than me?" Sam said, shaking his head and opening his beer on the sharp edge of the counter.

"I know what a clitoris is." Dean shrugged and drank for a long moment. "You'd be surprised how badly a lot of dudes do."

"Helps that you have personal experience."

Dean winked. "Definitely helps."

\- - -

Dean shifted uncomfortably, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Sam had gone to the goddamn fabric store and he was left crossing his arms over his chest and staring straight up for the next few hours.

The bed shifted with the weight of another person at its foot.

"Cas, now's not the time," Dean said without looking at him.

"Where's Sam?"

"Yeah, I'm doing just great. Thanks for asking. Makes me know you care."

Castiel sighed. "I need to talk to you both."

Dean kicked at him; none of the blows landed. "He's gone out. My clothes got all shredded and he has to patch stuff up."

Dean felt Castiel's gaze on him. "Your... binder."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's what it's called. Now can you come back later? Not really feeling the whole social call right now."

"You know there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I have seen you at your most naked."

Dean sat up, taking his arms off his chest to shove at Castiel. "Reassuring. Thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear."

Castiel stood, unaffected by Dean's shoves. "No, I mean I have seen your true form. Dean Winchester reduced to nothing but his essence. Not just this body and flesh your soul resides in."

Dean looked away from Castiel's gaze.

"I assure you, I do not care what physical form you take. I have touched your bare soul." Castiel spoke softly, leaning in close. Dean tried not to meet his eyes.

"Is my soul a dude?" Dean watched Castiel's lips instead.

"Souls do not have genders. But if I had to prescribe one, then yes, your soul had a masculine lean to it."

As soon as Dean met Castiel's eyes, both of them leaned forward, their lips meeting. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. Castiel's hands heavy on Dean's shoulders slid down his chest and Dean did not move away, only deepened the kiss and allowed Castiel to feel his body and the soul buzzing just beneath the surface.

"God dammit, Cas," Dean said, pulling away for a second. "Your mouth tastes like salt." Castiel smiled and kissed him again, not bothering to point out that it was Dean's cheeks that were wet, not his.

**Author's Note:**

> this work has been over a year coming and I finally sat down and wrote it in a couple days. thank god.


End file.
